


Running Buddies

by Spadesjade



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Break Up, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spadesjade/pseuds/Spadesjade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You like Tom. You are surprised that you don't like him quite like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Buddies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lettalady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettalady/gifts).



"I'm sorry, Tom, but it just isn't working out."

Those were never words you thought you'd say. But you also never thought you'd get a shot at Tom Hiddleston, either.

Rumors were that he was in your town on location for a film. You were too cowardly to dare go to the set to see if he was signing autographs -- no way you wanted to deal with that scene. Besides, with so many people, standing around for hours, risking not even getting to see him at all, having him be too tired or the security chasing you away -- it wasn't worth it. 

Then he'd come into your craft store on the first day of the week. He was looking for a particular type of paint. Why in the world he would need paint, you had no idea. Was it for the role? Was he a painter? But you didn't pry, you just helped him calmly, digging your nails into your thigh to keep yourself from losing your shit completely. When he had what he wanted, you offered to check him out. 

It was obvious he didn't want to be noticed. He was wearing a baseball cap and a pair of Ray-bans, but of course you knew that lanky frame anywhere. So when he removed the glasses and fixed you with those damn eyes of his, you had to step on one set of toes with the heel of the other foot to keep yourself in line. 

"I know this is going to sound kind of off, but...would you be interesting in having dinner with me?"

You gaped. Stupidly. Then reminded yourself you were not going to fangirl. No frikkin' way. "Um..." you cleared your throat. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm sorry," he said, and chuckled in that charming way of his, "but I just think...you're very cute, and sweet. And if you didn't have dinner plans, I was sort of on my own this evening, if you'd like to just have dinner. No obligations, just a meal."

Holy...Mother...of...what? Tom Hiddleston wanted to go out with you?

No, not a date, you told yourself harshly. Just dinner.

"S..sure," you stammered.

He picked you up at the store at the end of your shift, and you told him where a good restaurant was, where he wouldn't be bothered too much. It was Monday, not a lot of people went out on Monday. So you had a quiet booth to yourselves.

At first blush, it was all very exciting. You had Tom Hiddleston sitting across from you, and you could stare at him all you wanted. And he stared back. He was everything like you'd seen in the interviews. His expressive hands, his continuous apologizing. His dorky-ness, and his adoration of Shakespeare.

And the nose wiping. Which was something you'd forgotten.

At first you ignored it, but he kept doing it. Pinching his nostrils and wiping the snot that oozed onto his fingers. And touching other things. Like food. And things that were offered to you. It was...well, it was gross! And you tired to put it aside, everyone had their quirks. But it was just plain...yuck. 

The other thing...and you were so embarrassed to admit this. It was nice to listen to him talk. It was something you thought you could do forever. But after the first hour or so (it was actually closer to an hour and a half) you started to get a little...bored. And there were things he would say that would make you think of something that he might be interested in, but there was no way to interject it in his continuously flowing monologue! It was apparent he was trying to impress you, but he seemed completely oblivious to the fact that you had things to contribute as well, to impress him!

So when the evening was over, needless to say, you were more than mildly disgruntled. He dropped you off back at your car and waited until it started and you drove off safely. And quite frankly, you didn't expect it to go any farther than that.

Then he showed up on Wednesday and asked you out again. His next available night was Friday. He wanted to take you to dinner. "A proper date, this time. I really had fun Monday."

You smiled, trying not to seem awkward. You had been mildly concerned that this might happen. After all, he was still Tom Hiddleston, still impossibly adorable, but you really had not felt any...spark. Which was surprising. You were always convinced you'd throw yourself at him and let him whisk you away and marry him without a second thought. 

But...no. This was not like that. Not at all.

Still, it was only fair to give him a second chance. After all, he may have been nervous, and you were definitely nervous, and it was only fair to give him one more chance.

Nope. More of the nose wiping. And he'd had the gall to actually try and hold your hand -- another thing you'd dreamed about -- when you knew perfectly well he'd just wiped his nose with it! 

It wasn't that you didn't like him. You did like him. His beautiful eyes and lovely hands and wide shoulders and impossibly long legs...but now that you looked at him and had a better idea what was underneath it, you didn't feel that obsessive rush of blood anymore. You didn't feel that heady sensation in your brain destroying all rational thought.

This was not going to work out. There was no...spark. 

So now, here he was, bright and fresh on a Saturday afternoon, a day off from the shoot, and you were doing what you never, ever though a person like you would do in a hundred million years.

You were shooting down Tom Hiddleston.

"I mean, it's not that I don't like you, Tom, I love you as an actor and you've been very sweet. But I just don't...like you, like you. You know? The chemistry...it just isn't there."

Tom looks rather sad. You wish, desperately, that it wasn't true. That you loved him every bit as much as you had always dreamed you would. But you honest-to-God didn't. There was nothing there. 

"Well, I guess I appreciate you not stringing me along," he sighs, placing his Ray-bans back on his face. "I can't say this is how I imagined things happening, though."

"Neither did I," you say, sadly. "I hope you're not upset with me."

"No, no, of course not, darling. Well, I was in the middle of my morning run, so I should probably get back to it. Take care of yourself."

"If you need a running buddy while you're still in town, I'd be happy to keep you company," you offer. Because he is still Tom Hiddleston, and you still think he's hot. 

He smiles at you in the way only he can as he pauses on his way to the exit of the store. "I might take you up on that sometime, darling."


End file.
